"The healer says I'm fine."
"The healer says you're recovering." He adjusted the placement of a spoon, as if its angle was crucial. "From nearly freezing to death. In water. Again."
She watched him fuss with the tray, this immortal creature who commanded forests and inspired fear in Winter Lords, now concerned with whether her napkin was folded properly.
"You know," she said carefully, "for someone so worried about my fragile human constitution, you didn't seem concerned about it in that cave."
His hands stilled.
"When you took me against the furs," she continued, taking a perverse pleasure in making him acknowledge it. "Multiple times. Rather... enthusiastically."
He turned to face her fully, and she caught something flicker across his face, not embarrassment, exactly, but something close.
"That was different."
"Different how?"
"You were conscious. Responsive. Very responsive," he smirked. "Not blue-lipped and barely breathing."
"So my fragility is conditional?"
"Your fragility," he said, voice dropping to that dangerous register, "is irrelevant when you're begging me to take you."
Heat flooded her face, but she refused to back down. "Then surely I've recovered enough to walk to the bathroom."
"No."
"Eliam—"
"You'll call for assistance." He moved to his chair while Briar tried to determine when the ornate piece had been moved into her room. She distinctly remembered it being in his study three days ago. "Or I'll assist you myself."
The thought of him helping her bathe made her stomach flip in ways that were not wholly unpleasant.
"That's not necessary."
"Neither was throwing yourself at a magical ice construct." He picked up a stack of documents from the side table. "Yet here we are."
She reached for the tea, needing something to do with her hands. Taking a sip she looked down in surprise. It was perfect. A bit of honey and just a touch of milk, exactly how she liked it. When had he learned that?
"Don’t overthink it," he said without looking up from his papers.
"I’m not overthinking anything,” she protested. “I'm drinking tea."
"You're analyzing. I can feel it from here." He made a note in the margin of whatever he was reading. "Eat the berries first. They have vitamins."
"I didn't realize the Forest King was an expert in human nutrition."
"I'm an expert in many things." He glanced up, eyes narrowing. "You're too pale."
"You said that yesterday."
"It's still true today." He set down his papers, rising with that fluid grace that made her mouth dry. "And you have shadows under your eyes."
"Because someone keeps waking me every two hours to check my temperature."
"Fevers can spike suddenly." He crossed to her bed, and her traitorous pulse quickened. "Speaking of which."
Before she could protest, his hand was on her forehead. Cool fingers against her skin, checking with an intensity that belonged to doctors in healing halls, not fae overlords in bedchambers.
